


red(s)

by crystallizedcherry



Series: Spabel Week 2016 [6]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Canon, Day 6: Gardening, F/M, Post WWII
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 06:34:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7563970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystallizedcherry/pseuds/crystallizedcherry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Red poppies and carnations; he moved them to the ground.</p>
            </blockquote>





	red(s)

hetalia – axis powers © hidekazu himaruya  
_the author hereby claims that there was no profit gained in the making, written on entertaining purpose_.

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The red carnation would soon join the the poppy.

Withered, and Mother Earth should let them go; should say the last goodbye she could never feel easy to, but she had to.

But two buds were waiting to be welcomed.

“And you say we lost hope?” Antonio cleaned the dirts from his hand with just a piece of cloth. “Look at this baby, _bella_.” His touch to the red soon-to-be poppy was feather-light, as if it was an antique chinoiserie.

His strong mood didn’t seem to manage to cheer her up, and he just shrug it off. He continued to move some flower plants from little garden pots to the soil. It looked like it was going to rain soon, but he seemed oblivious despite Isabeau said before that they probably must wait until the weather was better.

But even weather perhaps needed time to heal too.

War was over, but the dreary part wasn’t.

“Look at this petite poppy. Thank God you had the chance to rescue it from the battlefield.” He brought a pot to her, the flower plant inside almost lost its hope once, and its rotten leaves on the bottom still had stories to tell. “I can’t wait for it to bloom. Probably soon?”

“Don’t put your expectation too high,” she replied rather flatly. “We don’t know.” Isabeau ignored his humming beside her, and him walking back and forth rearranging her backyard. She bowed to pluck a shriveled, hopeless petal of a carnation near to her feet. She brused it and instantly it lacerated.

Spring 1946, and she didn’t think the fear, relentless nights, horrible battles, and the utmost one: the war, were not over yet. Spring might bloom these pretty little hope(s), but it was not as pretty as the analogy. What was hope when it finally wither and broken again in the human’s hands?

“We don’t know? Yes, we don’t,” Antonio wiped his hands on the back of his pants, “And we also don’t know good things will happen in the future, _baby_.”

“Antonio—how could you be this optimistic while it was human too who destroy the  peace we should have had—”

“Not all _human_ , Isabeau.”

“I know! But those bad people sometimes overpower the good ones who carry our hope!” she almost lost in her own anger. “I—I just ....”

He sighed, approached her and ruffled her hair. “One day, you will regain that hope, believe me. Just like this little one,” he brought up the pot she didn’t know he was still holding. “Hope is all about strength. A human, although he cannot stand anymore, will have the light inside his heart. Light of faith. Half of us is humanity, we are made of that. You may immersed in a sorrow, but you will back to the surface, soon, though you don’t swim.”

Isabeau caressed the carnation bud with her tip of finger, she didn’t see the light yet, but she can _feel_ it on her finger.


End file.
